Written by Lex Celera Who can tell the future? Sometimes there’s no point in finding conjectures to predict what can happen five, ten, or a hundred years from now. Sometimes all you need to do is imagine. One year after who knows?, Pasay-based rock band sci fye continues its formula of punk-ish, catchy rock mixed in with a lot of other elements. Since its inception, sci fye’s main proposition has been an interpretation of a subset of music acts that ended up bundled together in the ‘90s: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Green Day, Pink Floyd – you get the idea – all influential and worth remembering when listening to sci fye. It’s almost like they swiped off the dust from a CRT television set and examined it through a microscope. These influences flow off of each other in a way that outpaces their novelty while binding them to a sound sci fye can call its own. For one, it’s the technical know-how: the recording is precise, and more importantly, audibly clear, as we have come to expect from their work. Let me be clear: a bulk of sci fye’s tracks are at its most potent when heard live (always a pleasure to see them in the marquee of a gig poster) , but easy listening – say, while in a car – doesn’t diminish sci fye’s angular approaches to music. “Bastard,” a lyrical and thematic standout from the whole project, was worth an immediate re-listen after first contact, its concussiveness, borrowed from its more hip-hop elements, bouncing off the windows of the car stereo. Second, the composition of each song leaves little to be desired, and I say this in the best way possible. ‘2092’ as its individual tracks feel complete, or at least well considered, for it to go on, break down, or stop. What has been said about their previous EP could also be said of ‘2092’: while their individual tracks feel fully formed, the Album as a whole is a mixed bag, rife with textures and sounds that point towards different directions. The 4-piece has yet to transcend from its past work, but maybe transcendence is not the point. “Intro,” Good morning, ‘2092’!,” and “Western Corprorate Standoff” act as interludes between tracks but come in more as flavor text that can be excavated to find meaning, or not. It’s like laughing at the mouth of the abyss. After their EP launch on Halloween, the band thanked their collaborators and friends in an Instagram post. “We still got one more in us,” the band says. Maybe we can expect another project a year from now. At the speed they are going, music making appears to be a pressure valve they turn clockwise every now and then to let out some steam. Steam, and a lot of angst, some anger, a little bit of melancholy. A lot of anxiety. I’m not sure if I enjoy being comforted by the fact that I relate to the anxieties of the generation, as told by sci fye, to a tee: feelings of belonging (“Alien”), fraught relationships (“Drown It Out”), but mostly the dread of living in the Philippines in 2025. The title track, “’2092′,” and its frenetic fuzziness exude warmth, but the lyrics come as a lingering shadow. We all want to escape this hellhole we call the present day. What’s 2092 minus 2025? 67. Do with that information what you will. If you’re willing to rock with the supposed abject aimlessness sci fye presents themselves, it would be more interesting to see them as a prism of the present condition we see ourselves in, and ‘2092’ as yet another layer to their humor. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
Author: Louis Pelingen
ALBUM REVIEW: aunt robert – Goodbyes Forever
Written by Rory Marshall The mind can get so jumbled up that even our own thoughts can be unintelligible to us. What we’re left with is a confusing cacophony of emotion and dissonant ideas, but somehow, aunt robert was able to take theirs and masterfully craft it into music in their new indietronica / indie pop hybrid album ‘Goodbyes Forever.’ We’ve seen EPs and singles from them over the years, but this is their first full-length album. ‘Goodbyes Forever’ takes a brave leap into vulnerability, budging open doors to the mind usually kept shut in order to cope with overwhelming feelings. Spanning across 10 tracks, each song delves deep into specific yet relatable emotions. From isolation and pining, to girlhood and resentment towards a past lover, each song dedicates itself to these specific feelings. It comes across that the album is a hodgepodge of different sentiments, but how better would it be to describe the chaos that the mind can be sometimes? The theme of mishmashed emotions is also mirrored through the selection of musical genres present in the album. aunt robert has taken this as an opportunity to diversify their sound, branching out to different genres to better illustrate their songs’ message while still holding on to the indie-rock style that fans fell in love with in the first place. This can be seen as early as the first track of the project, “Frount Robert” an upbeat, poptechno-esque track tinged with longing. It’s their classic aunt robert sound accompanied by synths and vocal effects. The album progresses smoothly, with the next couple of tracks leaning towards indie-rock, including the tracks “Mad” and “Please Say It” which were released as singles last year and have now found a home in the album. It’s such a cohesive arrangement of songs that when the album takes a stylistic turn in “Keepsake”, you realize you’re already at the midpoint of the album. With “Keepsake”, the band slows down the pace of the album and takes on a more intimate, reminiscent approach. Utilising an acoustic and atmospheric sound, aunt robert looks back on a past relationship with its promises unkept and answers to questions left unsaid, all the while still wishing them the best. It’s a beautiful, succinct track that deserves to be highlighted. The second half of the album showcases the experimentation that aunt robert endeavored, with most of the tracks leaning heavily towards that poptechno tinge we’ve seen in the opening track. The drum machines and synths create such a vibrant atmosphere. The production on these tracks proves to be excellent – they have a lot of elements mashed up with each other without sounding busy. It’s discordant in the most lovely way. As seen in tracks like “Blue” and “I’ll Go Wherever You Wanna Go”. As the album comes to a close, it ends with a hopeful note in “Hoarse (I’ll Get up Like I Always Do)”. The song devolves into high gain crunch towards the end with aunt robert’s voice ringing throughout the breakdown singing the lyrics like “I’ll get up like I always do” and “And I care like I always do. Nothing bad but it’s nothing new” It’s reminiscent of the consoling we sometimes do to ourselves in times of distress, reminding ourselves that we are capable of getting back up no matter what tries to convince us otherwise. ‘Goodbyes Forever’ is an apt name for the album. The whole project was a way to say the unsaid to whoever needed to hear it, so all that’s left is to bid farewell. Its closure and catharsis spread across 10 songs. aunt robert has done these genres before in smaller projects, but in ‘Goodbyes Forever,’ it seems they really dug their nails into it and honed their unique sound, making us excited to see how they develop their arsenal of styles in the future. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: goodbyes forever by aunt robert
ALBUM REVIEW: Janine Berdin – LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA
Written by Faye Allego Janine Berdin’s ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ is hopeful and seemingly glaring. She blends pop punk, pain, and the performance of “Alternative” in a way that centers the strong female lead vocal back into revival with her new debut album. Within the sonic punches she throws, Berdin’s voice also sits somewhere between early 2000s OPM angst and modern TikTok confessional pop. If there was a word to coin mainstream artists diving down the alternative route as their breakfree moment and entrance to their own creative autonomy, it’s ‘Hugot Alternative’. ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ opens like a Pandora’s box of every detailed situationship debacle that has been discussed, debated, and dissected in sleepovers and passive-aggressive Instagram stories. “HAYUP KA” and “SITWASYONSHIP” hit with unapologetic energy that evokes the comfort that comes from the rawness of rage. Tracks like “Miskom” soften the edges as Berdin’s vocals glide gently over percussion that recalls praise and worship patterns, before a tempo change in the bridge jolts you back into the time where women in OPM like Yeng Constantino confronted and made heartbreak sound holy. There’s no cattiness in “Pretty Pretty Bird,” it’s Berdin’s “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo. It’s where girls sit in front of the mirror and fight with their reflection. It’s where Berdin sings “You love her but make love to me/She’s a pretty pretty girl and really I’m no one” that the confession of, “Well, I wanted it to be me” is effortlessly relatable. Meanwhile, “ANTOXIC” captures Berdin at peak raspiness and rawness, and becomes reminiscent of a tragic TikTok edit of the Twilight Saga Series. This track channels the emotional punch of Hugot Alternative, bringing back the early OPM sincerity but reimagined through a grittier, modern lens. The third track, “Ayos Lang,” offers another emotional highlight that cements her vocal prowess and vulnerability. The track stands out among others because of how Berdin turns blunt with potential lovers being oh-so clueless, seen in lyrics like “Tamang patama lang sa story ko/ Palibhasa, ikaw palagi unang viewer ko,” a common detriment in the age of courtship dying down. While ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ starts off strong in the former half of the tracklisting, the momentum dips in its latter half. The slower tracks are simply misplaced, as the pacing and thematic flow couldn’t balance out the emotional weight and adrenaline carried out in the first few tracks. And then there’s the question of authenticity. When you already have access to a full production setup, a massive following, and creative freedom as a young woman in music, how do you escape the polished mold built for female pop stars? Berdin toes that line. She’s edgy enough to reject bubblegum pop, but not quite immersed in the alternative subculture she seems to gesture toward. Is she playing it safe? Maybe. Perhaps, she doesn’t have to carry the burden of reinventing what “alt OPM” means. If there’s one thing that doesn’t land, it’s that there is this unnecessary depiction of what the alternative is. The music videos, particularly the one where Rufa Mae Quinto appears as what seems like a Morticia Addams cosplay while playing fake bass, feel nothing but disconnected from the album’s emotional core. The aesthetic choices made don’t match the soundscape’s sincerity, leaving the visual narrative oddly hollow, almost forgettable, like a 15-second TikTok. Despite its inconsistencies, ‘LAB SONGS NG MGA TANGA’ is a thrilling start especially as a debut album from Janine Berdin. It’s snippets from an artist still defining her space in the post-idol landscape. Berdin may still be finding her balance between authenticity and aesthetic, but if this debut proves anything, it’s that she rocks the distinct OPM blend of yearning and grit that was dearly missed in the new age of strong female voices. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
EP REVIEW: Unflirt – Fleeting
Written by Louis Pelingen The story of how Unflirt, the stage name of Christine Senorin, started is pinpointed within the universal isolation of the lockdown. With her guitar in hand, she eventually proceeded to write and sing down her thoughts. Moments of flickering romance are contained within her 2023 EPs, ‘Bitter Sweet’ and ‘April’s Nectar’, which reflect Unlfirt’s sonic identity: cozy folk acoustics and shimmering indie pop that nestle around her girlish coos, with enough melodic sharpness to lend her presence some weight and tact. Despite solidifying that she is still warming up, there is potency to be located in those EPs. ‘Fleeting’ is yet another step to Unflirt’s growing aptitude as a musician. Written during her time spent in parts of London, LA, and Brazil, there is a maturity that she has undergone through her writing. Her reflection not only comes through in dealing with a long-distance relationship, but also in processing time and distance itself. Something that she now values even further in her life, grasping its ever-changing flow and factoring that in how she writes. The yearning she carries from past EPs is still retained, but she now considers the sifting presence of time passing by on her mind. In terms of overall compositions, there is also some progress in finding polish and expansion, adding more atmospheric and instrumental detail that, for the most part, flatter Unflirt’s soft vocals well. “Sea Song” carries some of that bedroom pop sheen, with textured programmed drums complementing some sharper guitars. “Sweet Sweet Time” and “Something Familiar” are lilting as it is tasteful, with the former’s pulpy grooves amid gentle strums and the latter’s string accents weaving around folksy effervescence. “Next To You” is a welcome addition to Unflirt, this blistering pop-rock tune that could have been made back in the late ’90s, all brimming with glimmering melodies backed by riffs that flare and echo throughout the song. However, just like with those past EPs, Unflirt is still in a position where she is continuing to find her own space amidst the frankly prevalent array of pop acts that are following adjacent soft, hushed vocal styles and glossy pop-rock tones. There may be forward motion in her writing and refinement in production this time around, but she is still finding her own groove amidst the overall sound. Trying to grip the wheel and see where she can steer with full confidence. ‘Fleeting’ is an apt title for the current state that Unflirt is configuring. An acknowledgement of time and distance that affects parts of her life, where she is now trying to move forward and consciously consider how they will change her wholeheartedly. Yet it is also a reflection of the songs that, at best, Unflirt have shown more promise and end up sticking, and, at worst, become too familiar and pass by. Support the art and the artist:
ALBUM REVIEW: Bambu – They’re Burning The Boats
Written by Gabriel Bagahansol The name of the latest album from Filipino-American rapper Bambu is taken from the arrival of Spanish forces in Mexico, who set fire to their ships in a bid to take over the country through bloodshed. There is a web of colonialism that links Mexico to both the Philippines, its fellow former Spanish colony, and Bambu’s hometown of Los Angeles, whose Mexican heritage clashes with the socio-political dominance of the United States. That ever-growing web of international dominance and tyranny is what informs the sentiments within the rapper’s latest project, ‘They’re Burning The Boats.’ The anger spurred in response to gun violence, conservative grifters, raids on immigrants, a tax-funded genocide, and a disproportionate status quo is front and center on ‘It’s Happening, Again,” which acts as a preface for the album. On the next track, “Their Problem, Not Mine,” Bambu calls out Filipino-Americans who have chosen to betray their Filipino roots in exchange for model minority points that won’t protect them from racism. He doubles down with his disgust on unprincipled people in “Righteous, By Design,” where he encourages people to be proud for having militant progressive stances and speaks out against money-driven commentators who manufacture consent for imperialist aggression. Fittingly, on “Burning Manufactured, Alive,” Bambu tells the story of Palestinians and Arab peoples who went about their normal, everyday lives before that normalcy was violently rewritten by Israeli bombs made possible, in part, by United States industries. And on “Inamo, Customs Enforcement,” Bambu talks about the racist violence happening in his own country, ridiculing ICE agents for being class traitors to their own countrymen and reminding them of the grim legacy they will leave behind for their children simply because they needed a paycheck. On this initial set of songs, Bambu plays the role of messenger and critic, with the sharp mindstate of an org leader leading a rally and the charisma of a rapper feeding rhymes to a packed club. His words flow so smoothly over boom-bap beats — provided by longtime collaborator Fatgums — that they help the heavy subject matter go down easily, and with Bambu’s skill in turning his stances into sticky hooks, these songs feel less like a sermon and more of a lively public demonstration. No more are these traits more evident than when Bambu tackles the chaos happening in the motherland. When most rappers would use a beat with snappy drums and warm electric pianos to brag about cruising at night in a flashy car, Bambu instead uses this as an opportunity to warn flood control contractors driving in their flashy cars of the consequences of their greed. “Blood In The Maybach, Patay Sa Baha” puts a spotlight on the injustices happening in our own country, conjuring images of corruption within the government and the media, and how it has affected us Filipinos. On the same song, Bambu delivers another lambasting of Asian-Americans who turn a blind eye to their fellow Asians who suffer back home, and he even calls on people to turn against the antiquated systems that have done so little to help their constituents. The injustices we face will leave us feeling plenty of anger and disgust, and these songs reflect that prevailing sense of doom, but rather than exhausting his rage to the end of the album, Bambu tries to propose that in spite of all of this, we can still make change possible. On “Complicit, Repeat,” instead of regurgitating his disdain towards ignorant people, he attempts to reach out to them, show a common ground in their struggles, and encourage them to speak out. By presenting sympathy to the apolitical who’ve become jaded over time and are now complicit in war by way of their tax money, he reminds listeners of why activism matters in these trying times. But with a closing track titled “It’s Happening, Now,” you’d think Bambu would take this opportunity to mobilize people into the streets after talking about the atrocities of our time in the last seven songs. But instead of giving into such obvious urgency, Bambu is showing love — love for his comrades, love for his fellow Filipinos, and most of all, love for his family. Now in his forties, Bambu’s rage against the machine is as alive as it was two decades ago, but becoming married with children didn’t dilute his energy. The sobering clarity after all the political chestbeating comes from remembering who it is you’re fighting for, and as Bambu makes it clear by the end of this album, he takes to the streets for a better future for his family and families like his. The two songs that close ‘They’re Burning The Boats’ not only prevent the album from becoming a doomscroll in glorious hip-hop, they also complete the purpose of activism and reaffirm the many people that come together in organizations and unions all over the world. Rebellion isn’t just about being angry over a corrupt system and sneering against conformity; it’s also about reaching out and welcoming people to the cause and making your disobedience count towards ensuring your countryfolk will no longer live a life they don’t want. But how do we solve all this, then? At the end of the album, Bambu clarifies that he actually doesn’t advocate for violence, but vows his support for whatever choice the masses will make to end the tyranny forced onto them. Put this album on and do with his words what you will — but keep them in mind the next time the ashes piled up on Manila Bay clog the drain and cause a flood the next time it rains. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: They’re Burning The Boats by Bambu
EP REVIEW: More To Me – Lost Teeth
Written by Aly Maaño Melodic hardcore never died; it just evolved. In the 2020s, bands are putting their own spin on the genre by fusing it with new influences. In the local music scene, More To Me is stepping in to push the genre forward. Composed of vocalist Dale Diongzon, lead guitarist Paolo Owyong, rhythm guitarist Mickoy Mariano, bassist Lee Mendoza, and drummer Francis Yuri De Jesus, the band recently launched their debut EP, Lost Teeth, with six tracks that blend emo and hardcore elements. The EP begins with a short introduction track that segues into “Cleansed,” an aggressive four-minute track with an explosion of crunchy bass lines and dynamic drum beats colliding with layered screams and clean vocals. The heavy guitar riffs echo rage and disappointment as evocative as Circa Survive and Balance and Composure’s older sound. “Cleansed” and “Lost Teeth” also seem to be twin tracks in this EP, sharing similar melodic traits and structure. The title track, however, is much more subdued in its angst. Instead of pointing fingers, the narrator seems to be facing the mirror after avoiding it for so long. Much like how losing teeth symbolizes change, this track signals a turning point in the record from a thematic point of view. Most projects that lean towards emo and hardcore are often emotionally charged, but Lost Teeth channels this rawness through its introspection meets intellectualism lyricism. In “Echoes,” Diongzon transforms pain into a shared catharsis. “In this world apart, where love was strong, we’ll keep holding on…” emphasizes community and its ability to soothe amidst suffering. While “Echoes” pushes listeners to a point of reflection, “By Design” is the kinetic force that propels us to achieve this sense of togetherness. The chorus “Inside our hearts, where love and pain collide… In silence, we sacrifice for better lives…” prompts us to look out for people in our community and choose love above all else. It’s an invitation to come together, to mosh, dance, and scream with new and familiar faces in the scene. As far as hardcore goes, Lost Teeth doesn’t disappoint. Diongzon’s vocals are inundated with tasteful guitar work; textured riffs that synthesize and serrate to make way for clean vocals that haptically switch to abrasive screams. Meanwhile, the mix of pounding drums and punchy bass riffs grounds the chaos before it lands in grittier hardcore territory. With this softer approach, the record sounds more melodic than traditional, pulling more from emo influences. As the EP finishes with “Whole Again,” the overlap of both genres is set in stone. The spur of melody and metaphors propped with heavy technicality underscore this harmonious intersection. However downcast it may sound, it leaves us in a tranquil state. “And if I’m a ghost, I hear you calling through the walls. Let’s set fire to these empty halls and make you whole again…” reminds us that we’re never truly alone in our silent battles. Lost Teeth doesn’t build up to a grand climax but shines in standout moments. Every intro sets the listening experience and each line reveals a personal truth. It won’t send us to a thought spiral nor let us sulk on familiar anxieties, but every melodic breakdown captures a cathartic feeling enough to resurrect millennial hearts from the grave of the mundane. After going through a phase of animosity, the EP matures into a self-realized record that hinges on the very thing that keeps melodic hardcore alive: vulnerability. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: Lost Teeth by More To Me
EP REVIEW: Yaelokre – Origins
Written by Francine Sundiang Yaelokre understands that sounds alone can evoke fantasy worlds. Arguably the most exciting artist to come out of the Philippines as of late, Keath Osk’s musical storytelling project has rejected the overtly autobiographical tendencies of many songwriters, while still managing to be deeply personal through and through. If their first EP, ‘Hayfields,’ was an introduction to the world of Meadowlark, ‘Origins’ acts as an expansion of their worldbuilding. The first track “My farewells to the fields” starts with isolated strums of their guitalele, you are instantly taken somewhere else, to a scene in a land of fantasy, to a storyteller gathering listeners around in a circle, sharing a tale in hushed whispers that eventually turn into cries of triumph, a tale of leaving an old home and finding sanctuary in a found family. The track’s thematic richness manages to cut through to even the most casual listener. “Bird cage blue and yellow” is a track that exudes character, both that of the in-universe storyteller and that of Osk’s. “I can be different, I can’t be puppeted!” they both proclaim in a dramatic declaration of independence and self-determination in the face of the overwhelming pressure to conform. The artist’s heritage is on full display here as Osk softly sings in Icelandic and repeats lines in Filipino, a combination that wonderfully contrasts with each other while still being in harmony. While “To douse a scalded tongue” seems to promise to be a more mellow track compared to the previous two, that assumption is quickly proven wrong with an abrupt lofi vocal more akin to a condemnation than a song. It’s a call to action, inviting the listener to get up and refuse to stay silent. From here, it’s clear that Osk intends to keep the intensity up throughout the EP, never giving the listener a break from their theatrics and dramatic flair. The EP closes with “Kamahalan,” unique in all of the Yaelokre discography by being fully in Filipino. It is every bit as intense as all the other songs in the tracklist, but it achieves this through pounding percussion and a bassline that adds a subtle yet significant groove. While there is no lull in energy, it still manages to be a satisfying ending, and before you know it, the scene of masked storytellers in your head fades away as you’re taken back to reality. ‘Origins’ is a reinforcement of what the Yaelokre project stands for, which is fitting for an EP that explains the backstories of the four main characters. It is a desperate plea to you, the listener, to listen to your inner child, to unapologetically be your authentic self, no matter how much you are pressured not to. It’s just up to you if you have the courage to heed that call, a call made clearer in one of Yaelokre’s most compelling set of stories yet. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: Jopper Ril – Won’t Wait
Written by Francine Sundiang The best music often has a transportative quality to it, able to bring you to moments in the past you may not have even been a part of. With Jopper Ril’s “Won’t Wait,” the listener is taken to distant memories of late karaoke nights and the height of R&B, disco, and Manila Sound in the ‘70s. It’s a track that proudly wears its influences on its sleeve, but with enough attention given to songwriting and vocal performance to really make it stand out. Everything starts slowly, with melodic piano and subtle guitar chords gradually building up in intensity before reaching a falsetto vocal and a classic pentatonic guitar solo. This change in trajectory keeps your attention and prevents the track from becoming stagnant, all while Jopper Ril manages to exude a sense of charisma and stage presence purely through audio. These elements brought together create a track that would have been an instant classic had it been released at the same time as its influences. There’s nothing exactly new here, but there doesn’t need to be. After all, there’s no greater tribute to your influences than to show how their classic sounds still have a place in the present. Jopper Ril does exactly that; “Won’t Wait” is a homage to the greats, a time capsule to the height of a genre. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST:
TRACK REVIEW: NICKOTINE – BLOW BLOW
Written by Elijah P. NICKOTINE sits in a strange corner of the electronic dance space. They operate with the focus of a producer who knows exactly where to push the limits and does not bother waiting for permission. Their singles catalog running from 2024 already runs long enough to fuel an entire DJ set, and every release hits with the blunt force of someone who refuses to soften a single edge. The shift from the old Nicko Erotica moniker to NICKOTINE speaks for itself. They never relied on a safe route, and they continue to avoid any lane that asks them to pull back. Their TikTok gives a glimpse of how their mind works: Short clips, tight captions, and a kind of humor that turns the abrasive quality of their songs into a punchline. “BLOW BLOW” doubles down on that attitude. The track launches straight into hedonistic lines and a wall of mechanical horns that grind against buzzing synths. The whole thing comes together like a controlled collision. NICKOTINE built a following through SoundCloud drops that move between techno and deconstructed club. That following continues to grow because each release carries a sharp personality that rarely surfaces in the local dance scene. They have close to 19k followers on TikTok, which raises a bigger question: how many clubs and curators have yet to notice what they can do? The wild part is that they produce everything through a phone. No laptop. No full home setup. Just instinct and speed. Keep NICKOTINE in your sightline now. Support the art & the artist:
TRACK REVIEW: Franz Guico – di ko aaminin
Written by Rory Marshall Cagayan De Oro’s very own Franz Guico switches things up in his newest release, “di ko aaminin.” The folk singer-songwriter has taken a nudge in a different direction with his first single of 2025. Franz Guico has built up a reputation for soft, heartfelt acoustic tracks – reminiscent of haranas and sweet ballads, but with “di ko aaminin,” he casts his music in another light with a Math Rock twang. Nothing is lost with the new sound. Everything that made his music work before is present in the track, just with a new coat of paint. With his honeyed lyrics and melodies that seem to take residence in your ear long after the song ends, now accompanied with a shifting time signature and twinkly, complex guitar riffs, this feels more like an evolution rather than a switch-up. He’s no stranger to intricacies in his guitar playing, as seen in his previous folk tracks like “at nagkagulo”, but in this new single, the translation is seamless. All that’s different is the switch from soft acoustic to crunchy electric guitars. That, paired with crashy drums and a harmonic breakdown to close out the song, by the end of it, you’re left wondering how well his two styles complement each other. Is it a step in the right direction? Yes. His discography has a lot of heart, with tracks like “dahan dahan ka nang nawawala” and “ikaw na ang buhay ko” deserving more recognition than they have, but it wouldn’t be a far cry to label his discography a drop in the bucket of singer-songwriter OPM. Experimentation is healthy, and shaking things up is a natural part in the artistic process. It doesn’t always result in a success or a path the artist wants to pursue, but for the case of Franz Guico and “di ko aaminin”, this is an avenue worth exploring. SUPPORT THE ART AND THE ARTIST: